


Reasons

by Victorea_Ryan_Meadow



Category: Star Ocean: The Last Hope, Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: Gen, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorea_Ryan_Meadow/pseuds/Victorea_Ryan_Meadow
Summary: Edge claims he has his reasons for not getting involved. Albel has his reasons, too. Too bad they ultimately conflict with each other.





	Reasons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zenphoenixa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Zenphoenixa).



> Written for Zen, who has done some rather beautiful artwork for me. Gods above, I love her work!
> 
> Timeline-wise, set after the events of Earth's destruction for The Last Hope characters. For the Till the End of Time cast, it's going to be a complete rewrite.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Star Ocean or any of the characters mentioned in this story. I do not profit financially from writing this story.

Edge Maverick. Fayt Leingod.

 

Albel Nox stared at the two men as they glared at each other, a rather large and round table separating the two by at least a good five feet. No one knew or understood how anyone from seven hundred years in the past (give or take a little) managed to wind up in the present time, but there Edge Maverick and his crew (along with another crew from the same era and their captain, Crowe F. Almedio) were, giving Fayt holy hell for the decisions everyone else seemed rather eager to avoid making, including Maverick himself. Albel did a quick survey around the room.

 

Counting himself, seven captains were gathered around the table, though only three sat in positions of prominence – Fayt, Edge, and Crowe. He, Nel, and Adray had naturally started to follow Fayt’s lead as had Arumat, despite the younger man’s obvious lack in leadership experience. Not that the four of them, or even Maria, allowed Fayt to slack off in his duties and responsibilities to those who followed him, but Maria had her own agenda, and Edge, well, Albel possessed no idea on what the blond’s issues truly were. Crowe, too, seemed a bit content at times in obeying Fayt, but only when it seemed to suit the red-haired man in doing so. Crowe bounded back and forth between supporting both Edge and Fayt, a situation that was slowly starting to grate on Albel.

 

Of course, the rumors were that Crowe and Edge, indeed some of their crews, knew each other and had known each other since an early age, much like Fayt and the gutless wench, Sophia. Such knowledge caused a dilemma for the red-haired captain.

 

The gutless wench sidled closer to him.

 

“They’re still going at it?” she whispered, almost fearful. Albel snorted . . . until he glanced back at Fayt and Edge, and he had to do a double-take.

 

The blue-haired teen stood rigid, his arms straight, almost as if he were a wooden plank instead of a human being. A blue and white aura surrounded him. Hints of symbols appeared along his arms.

 

And Edge glared right back at Fayt, oblivious to his impending danger.

 

“I still say it’s a bad idea,” the blond retorted.

 

“You say everything’s a bad idea,” Fayt murmured, “yet you don’t do a damned thing to help anyone at all.”

 

“That’s enough, both of you!” One of Edge’s wenches intervened, the one with the long, dark hair. Reimi, Albel believed her name was, and she was just as annoying as Sophia when it came to her goody-two-shoedness. Albel often had to fight the urge to smack her as much as he did Sophia. While he didn’t fear being maimed by Nel, he certainly didn’t wish for a smackdown from Mirage. Or even Fayt for doing so. Edge was just a huge pushover. In the meantime, Reimi leveled a heated stare at Fayt. “Edge is our leader, Fayt. He _does_ have the final say in what we do.”

 

‘Hrmm.’ A bit of a smirk touched upon Albel’s lips. ‘I wonder . . .’

 

Meanwhile, Edge glanced away from Reimi, but Fayt scowled at her.

 

“Enough?” he echoed. His voice had become deadly calm and, well, as cold as an Airyglyph winter. “You’re right. It is enough. He doesn’t like the decision I’m making, that no one _else_ is even bothering to make, but he’s being too much of a fucking wuss to do anything. You tell me he’s your leader yet he doesn’t give a fucking command to anyone. If he’s against what I’m proposing then he can stop being such a fucking coward and be in charge. I’ve had it.”

 

Fayt turned on his heels and stormed out of the conference room. No one dared to breathe in those moments, nearly everyone staring in shock at this latest development.

 

“Do you think we should go after him?” Faize murmured. He fidgeted a little as he spoke.

 

“Hardly,” Reimi scoffed.

 

“He’s right, you know,” Maria stated. Albel rolled his eyes. Naturally, Maria sided with Fayt whenever it appeared she could get under Reimi’s skin. Reimi and Maria grated on each other in ways Albel envisioned he could exploit. If not for Fayt, he would have done so a few times over already. “You constantly tell us and your crew that Edge is your leader, yet he’s not made any attempts to actually _be_ your leader. Anytime someone else tries, we meet resistance. The only time your crew even remotely agrees to do anything Fayt suggests is when Crowe or Arumat backs him or when Edge just looks away. You’re right, too. Enough is enough. Edge, either you step up and be the leader everyone is telling us that you are, or you need to tell your crew to get behind Fayt’s decisions.”

 

“I can’t do that,” Edge muttered. “You just . . . don’t understand.”

 

“You’re right,” Maria countered, folding her arms across her chest. To Albel, this was a pathetic melodrama playing out, and he was growing bored with it. “We don’t understand because you haven’t told us what exactly it is you’re trying to do or even why.”

 

When the blond said nothing in return, Maria shook her head.

 

“Let’s go,” she muttered to Cliff and Mirage. “Maybe we can catch up with Fayt and talk him down. Whether Edge realizes it or not, we need him here.”

 

“I think I know where he’s going,” Cliff said. The three of them, followed by the actual pink-haired witch, Myuria, exited the room, Sophia hot on their heels. Nel and Adray observed Edge for a moment longer before they left.

 

One by one, everyone left the room except for Edge and Albel. The Glyphian swordsman leaned back in his chair.

 

“So what is it?” he asked.

 

“What is what?” Edge muttered.

 

“What is it about Fayt that has you acting like such a moron?” Albel asked airily. “Despite his lack of experience, his decisions have been quite sound.”

 

“It isn’t . . .”

 

“Do not lie to me,” Albel intoned in a warning voice. “You know several of them are offworlders, just as you and your followers are. They’ve admitted as much, but you hardly argue with them the way you do Fayt.”

 

“You . . .”

 

“Wouldn’t understand?” Albel mocked. He laughed. “You’re so pathetic.”

 

Edge let out a low growl.

 

“This isn’t funny.”

 

“Maybe not to you.” With his usual cat-like grace, Albel stood up and slinked over to Edge. “But it certainly is to me.”

 

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I knew.” Edge glared at him. Green eyes, for the first time since Albel had met the fool, lit with an angry fire.

 

‘Finally. Getting somewhere.’

 

“I would ask how can I know what you know when you keep your mouth shut, but I honestly don’t care any longer,” Albel replied with a casual wave of his hand. “Leingod is right. Your inaction is nauseating.”

 

“My inaction is for a reason.” Edge leapt to his feet. Albel took the opportunity to lean in closer to him. Their noses almost touched.

 

“Whatever reason you have to be a coward in the face of action is hardly a good reason,” Albel purred. He pressed in closer so that their bodies almost touched. Edge stiffened against him, in more ways than one. A smirk crossed Albel’s face as he continued, “I could do whatever I want to you, couldn’t I, maggot? You wouldn’t even bother to put up a fight.”

 

“That’s not . . .”

 

“True?” Albel sighed then stepped back. “If it weren’t true, you’d have shoved me away, you’d have fought. Your words are rather hollow, maggot. And quite honestly, I find you boring.”

 

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Edge glared at him.

 

“If you listen to the wenches, everything I say is an insult.” Albel waved a hand. “Go on. Go play house with your wench. She at least pities you the most, the wretched fools that you both are.”

 

“Don’t talk about Reimi like that,” Edge growled.

 

“And what are you going to do to stop me?” Albel purred yet again, smirking. “I can say whatever I like, regardless of whether or not anyone likes what I have to say. And you’ve hardly taken up your own defense since you’ve come to this world.”

 

“I have . . .”

 

“Reasons.” Albel shook his head. “So does Fayt.”

 

“Why do you call him by his first name?” Edge asked. Frustration laced his voice.

 

“Why do you care?” Albel shot back.

 

“Nng . . .” The blond closed his eyes and clenched his hands, like he wanted to punch someone but didn’t dare allow himself to release his anger. “You, Myuria . . . even Arumat, you call him by his first name. The rest of us, we don’t get that respect. It’s either boy or lad or girl, or, in your case, some type of an insult. What’s so different about him compared to the rest of us?”

 

Albel stared, unmoving.

 

_Fayt lay on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him and growing. His face was ashen, his chest barely rising. The Creator knelt next to him, a worn and haggard expression on his face. They drew their weapons, anxious to approach and to destroy the one hellbent on killing them. Pale blue eyes regarded them, glassy as though he were the one losing his life instead of Fayt._

_“Step away . . .”_

_“He will die . . .”_

_“You don’t . . .”_

_“He must not be angered too much. His powers will consume and destroy him.”_

_“Nonsense . . .”_

_“You’re lying . . .”_

_“You will need another,” the Creator said, as if they had never spoken at all. Blood, Fayt’s blood, stained the white of his armor. “I will make the arrangements.”_

_“What are you talking about, you worm?” Albel snarled._

_“Something comes. And your chosen savior could be dead by the time it does. I will make the arrangements. You will know when you see him.”_

_Fayt stood before them, clockwork armor covering his body, but his back was to them, to him. Bronze framing encased wings of pure white. Intense power radiated from him, hot and furious. An ominous shadow loomed in front of them. Fayt’s powers dwarfed them and the Creator._

_They were alone, darkness enveloping them like a comfortable blanket. A few tears rolled down Fayt’s cheeks, a momentary display of weakness._

_“I’m going to die soon, aren’t I?”_

Albel blinked. The images from his dreams vanished, but Fayt’s inquiry left him rattled still. That had not been a dream, not when the younger man picked up the change in Albel’s behavior. Not that it had been too subtle, of course, but then Fayt had often been quite clueless to many things, despite their rather obvious (to Albel) signs. Albel’s gaze refocused on Edge.

 

“I guess we all have our reasons for why we treat him differently than what we do you.” Albel shrugged, fighting the urge to kill something or someone right then and there. Dreams. They were nothing more than dreams in his head, the images of Fayt and the blond-haired Creator. Then Edge and Crowe and their crews showed up, and something about Fayt changed as well.

 

“That’s . . .”

 

“The same thing you keep telling us,” Albel countered. “That you have your reasons. Know that we do as well. And know I grow weary of your cowardice and your pathetic weakness.”

 

“I . . .”

 

“Enough.” Albel drew his sword. “Either spar with me and prove to me you’re not a pathetic weakling or stand down as your crew’s leader. Because you’re doing nothing for them or yourself.”

 

Edge shook his head, and Albel lost all sense of control. He imbedded his blade into the wall next to the blond’s head.

 

“Fight,” he whispered in a growl. “Fight so that _he_ doesn’t have to anymore.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

Albel grabbed Edge by his collar, yanked his sword from the wall, and dragged the reluctant and shocked young man out of the conference room. Servants, various researchers, and soldiers either watched in alarm or stepped out of the Glyphian’s way as he hauled Edge to the sparring grounds then changed his direction when he remembered the secret passage to the Shrine of Kaddan remained opened. Many of the Aquarians knew better than to intervene with Albel when Fayt wasn’t there to intervene.

 

A cool, dank breeze hit them the moment they descended the stairs.

 

“Where are we going?” Edge demanded. There was a slight tremble and a hint of curiosity in his tone, yet he trailed unresisting still behind the Glyphian. His muscles were tight under Albel’s grip, a bit of a good and pleasing sign.

 

“You’ll find out soon enough, fool,” Albel spat out.

 

They crossed the underground bridge, passing statue after statue of the Triple Goddesses along the way. Runological torches lit the corridor, and Albel recalled the secluded room they’d found Fayt in just days before Edge and Crowe appeared, their ships battered and the crew members bruised and weary. The blue-haired teen had stood next to a tomb, his expression dazed and an empty chalice dangling from limp fingers.

 

_“The sun king sleeps in an ancient corridor. Soon . . . soon . . .”_

 

‘Only Fayt will follow us here, if and when he learns about this,’ Albel mused, mentally trying to chase the image away. ‘Those Aquarian scum won’t come here to stop me. They won’t dare. They don’t know their way around anymore, except for the one. It’s perfect.’

 

“Are we even supposed to be here?” Edge asked.

 

“Just shut up,” Albel muttered. “Whether or not we’re supposed to be here is hardly relevant.”

 

“But . . .”

 

By this point, they’d crossed the threshold into the underground cavern’s main antechamber. No monsters roamed the place, as they had when they’d needed to locate Fayt. Albel frowned at this development but chose not to linger on what this meant.

 

‘Not now.’

 

“Hey . . .” Edge scrambled to keep up even as Albel refused to relinquish his hold. “What are we doing here? We shouldn’t be here.”

 

His discomfort confirmed to Albel he’d chosen correctly. The path he chose to the sun king’s coffin proved to be the most difficult to traverse, and Albel ground his teeth. Though Edge had yet to put up a fight, the Glyphian possessed no doubts that someone had sought out Fayt and the others to inform them of his and Edge’s whereabouts.

 

‘The sooner we get this over with, the better. Why isn’t he pulling away from me? Such a fool. Can’t even fight for himself any longer.’

 

Albel picked up his pace, not caring if Edge stumbled and lost his footing along the way. From memory, he followed each twist and turn until he found the room he wanted. Unceremoniously, he tossed Edge to the ground and raised his sword at the man again.

 

“It’s just you and me now, maggot,” he snarled. “Unlike Fayt, I’m through talking with you. I’ve been through with talking to you.”

 

“You never wanted to talk,” Edge spat. He scrambled to his feet and drew his sword.

 

“Talking is often a waste of time.” To prove his point, he charged the other man. Edge barely dodged away from him in time but never brought his sword up completely in his defense. His fighting instincts kicked into motion, and Albel whirled around to strike again. The room provided little space in which to dodge. Blood would be drawn before too much longer.

 

‘Come on,’ he mentally urged the younger man, who continued to defend himself but nothing more. ‘Fight me. Prove that you’re the capable warrior your moronic friends claim you to be. Do something, _anything_ to prove that Luther is right, and that we can somehow save Leingod. _Come on!_ ’

 

Aggravated by Edge’s lack of initiative, Albel increased the intensity of his strikes. Desperation filled his heart. The human needed to give him something, _anything_ , before Albel decided to give him any further respect. So far, Edge’s hedging destroyed whatever confidence Albel had in the Creator’s decision. The reluctance needed to be replaced and fast.

 

The tight quarters proved to be challenging for both men. They danced in circles, their swords clashing, but Edge’s reluctance to fight finally won over him. He managed to disarm Albel at the same time Albel disarmed him, but he lost his footing and fell to the ground, taking the Glyphian with him in the process.

 

A smirk graced Albel’s features as he took advantage of their new positions and pinned the younger man to the ground, both of their swords now out of reach. His hand traced along the edges of the material, his fingers sliding in between Edge’s pants and flesh, carefully undoing the button before working on lowering the zipper. Green eyes flashed in surprise and anger.

 

“Don’t . . .” Edge warned.

 

“Don’t what?” Albel mocked. “You’ve hardly put up much of a fight for anything. What’s one more thing?”

 

Those green eyes narrowed at him. Edge’s breathing increased as Albel slid his hand further into the younger man’s pants. Edge grabbed him by the wrist the moment Albel’s fingers wrapped around his cock.

 

“Don’t,” the younger man warned again, this time with a little more alarm.

 

“Don’t what?” Albel repeated. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice into a hushed whisper, his lips dangerously close to Edge’s ear. “Don’t breathe fire and life into you? Don’t awaken your senses to what’s going on around you? Don’t make you aware of what’s truly going on around you? Is that what you truly want?”

 

“I . . .” Hesitation and confusion crossed Edge’s features. His body trembled from what Albel presumed was his own close proximity. Though he’d yet to do anything further beyond grasping Edge’s cock, the younger man’s body was already reacting, the flesh heating up and hardening.

 

“Your reluctance to fight is going to get someone killed,” Albel murmured. “Is that what you wish for? You wish to remain as this dead thing you’ve become?”

 

“I’m not . . .” Edge’s grip on his wrist loosened some, but Albel chose not to do anything further just yet. “Don’t ask me to save an entire planet . . . I can’t . . .”

 

“I’m not asking you to save an entire planet,” Albel purred. “I don’t give a damn about the entire planet or even the whole universe. I care about one person and one person alone, the only person that’s even worth saving at this point.”

 

“What?”

 

“What is it going to be?” Albel asked, relishing in Edge’s confusion. “Fire and life? Or a cold and meaningless existence because you’re so eager to give up on everyone and everything?”

 

Desire coursed through the Glyphian, hot and intense, as he waited for Edge’s reply. His fingers flexed a little around Edge’s swelling shaft. He wanted to take the blond right then and there, consequences be damned. At the same time, however, having Edge as a willing participant, as someone who desired to live and to fight appealed to him even more, and so he waited. A low moan escaped the blond.

 

“What is it that you want from me?” Edge murmured. “I don’t understand you. I thought . . .”

 

“Can’t you tell what I want?” Albel asked in mock innocence. He squeezed Edge’s cock and balls. “I thought it was rather clear from the moment I brought you here.”

 

“You brought me here to fight,” Edge retorted.

 

“Which we did,” Albel pointed out. “And now we’re here, like this.”

 

“And if I say no to this?” Edge’s eyes took on a hard, steely glint. “If I truly fight you off me to stop this?”

 

“To this?” He squeezed those delicate parts again. Edge gasped sharply and moaned again. He then nodded. Albel half-shrugged. “I can always find someone else to pleasure myself with, though I don’t relish the idea of traipsing through Aquios to do just that. I’m sure there’s a whorehouse somewhere in the city. That is hardly the issue. You, on the other hand, will have to live with the what-ifs that will soon follow, the what-ifs that have nothing to do with us rutting like beasts. Can you say no to saving someone you hold dear?”

 

“I still don’t understand what you mean, but . . .” Edge pushed against him and tried to sit up at the same time. He let go of Albel’s wrist in the process. Curious, Albel allowed the younger man to change his position. Edge lifted his ass and shoved his pants down then slid an arm around Albel’s waist. The other grasped Albel his cock. The fires of lust burned hotter within Albel, and it was his turn to moan.

 

“I take it you’re saying you want this?” he asked in a husky tone, stroking Edge’s cock slowly and teasing the tip.

 

“Yes,” Edge replied after a moment, his breathing quickening. He fondled Albel’s balls. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

 

“I want everything off of you,” he said. He stared straight at Edge’s face as he spoke. The younger man’s cheeks turned pink.

 

“It takes too long to . . .” Edge muttered weakly.

 

“I want you _vulnerable_ ,” Albel growled. He stroked Edge’s cock rather leisurely.

 

“I’m already vulnerable to you,” Edge protested.

 

“More than what you already are,” Albel said. A painful twinge arose in his chest as memories unbidden visited him. “Life and fire . . . you can’t always guard yourself against them.”

 

“But . . .” Edge’s eyes rolled backwards a little, and he let go of Albel and began the painstakingly slow process of removing his armor, starting with his legs and moving upwards. He blew out a soft breath. “Fine, but you have to be vulnerable to me, too.”

 

Albel watched with hungry eyes, stroking Edge’s cock the entire time, and he wasn’t disappointed in what greeted him, either. Edge’s shoulders were broad to begin with and pale, the skin smooth. He wasn’t overly muscled, either, like either Adray or Cliff, but well-toned, similar to Fayt’s physique. His nipples hardened before Albel’s eyes, and goosebumps peppered his skin upon exposure to the cooler air. Albel leaned forward, his tongue flicking over one of the little nubs. His cock hardened at the display in front of him: Edge Maverick, bared and his legs spread a little and waiting.

 

“Your . . . turn,” Edge panted out. His hips rocked in time with Albel’s ministrations.

 

“Hnn . . .” Albel paused for a moment as though to consider Edge’s request, though he couldn’t deny, if only to himself, he wanted to be bare, too, his flesh soaking up the heat that was Edge Maverick. “Very well then . . .”

 

Removing his gauntlet proved to be the only difficult thing for Albel, and it was the last thing he took off before he pushed Edge onto his back and spread his legs further. Green eyes regarded him with lust and apprehension. Albel traced Edge’s opening with his right hand then slid a finger inside. Edge gasped again and tensed, grunting a little. He squirmed from the intrusion but didn’t pull away from Albel. Instead, Edge took to touching his nipples with one hand while reaching for Albel’s cock with the other.

 

“You don’t need to prep me,” Edge murmured, more moans emanating from his throat.

 

Albel ignored him, no longer interested in talking about anything, only interested in making the young man with him writhe and scream in pleasure. Edge’s ministrations to his own cock sent little jolts of pleasure through him and ignited a fire in his belly. With his one finger, he pushed and probed as deep as he could in Edge’s anus. He added a second finger moments later.

 

Edge’s cock twitched and lengthened, dripping with his essence, and his entire body flushed a light red. Albel smiled at the sight as he worked his fingers deeper into Edge’s body.

 

When Edge’s eyes rolled backwards and his body relaxed completely, his cock standing at attention and dripping to the point of weeping; when he tugged on Albel’s cock, leading it to his opening, Albel took his cue to move on to the next step. He positioned himself so the tip of his shaft poked at Edge’s loosened yet tight opening then pushed himself in as deep as he could. Heat enveloped the Glyphian’s swollen length, and muscles constricted around it, pulsing and squeezing and urging him further in. With his balls pressed against Edge’s ass cheeks, Albel gripped the younger man’s leg tight and thrusted. Edge took over stroking himself, the apprehension gone from his features. Albel stretched out on top of him, and Edge wrapped his legs around his waist, meeting him stroke for stroke and thrust for thrust. Sweat covered their bodies as Albel drove himself hard and deep into Edge’s pliant body. Flesh slapped wetly against flesh and mingled with their moans and panting. Albel bit into Edge’s shoulder, and the saltiness of his flesh drove all other thoughts from Albel’s mind.

 

The change came from Edge first. His balls tightened against Albel, and the Glyphian allowed himself a tiny smirk. It perversely pleased him to know he had this power over Edge, to make him feel, to make him cum. A harsh and elated cry erupted from Edge. His body arched, and his essence spurted from him. Seconds later, Albel’s balls tightened, and his thrusting picked up. Edge’s ass lifted in the air as Albel drove deep, his balls aching as he reached his climax, riding Edge hard. He collapsed on top of the blond, panting from the exertion and sated.

 

After a few moments, Albel withdrew and reached for his clothing and armor, noting scratches and teeth marks that hadn’t been there before. His eyes raked over Edge’s prone form. The blond lay still, his gaze on the ceiling. Bite marks peppered his chest in various places as they did Albel.

 

“They’ll be looking for us,” Albel remarked. “You might want to be half-way dressed when they find us or else that wench of yours will try to have my head. I’d hate to have to kill her in front of you.”

 

“Charming,” Edge retorted. He winced as he sat up. Albel’s seed leaked from his hole. “But I can’t deny that you’re right. I don’t want Reimi to see me, either. She’d kill me faster than she would you. Man, it’s going to hurt to walk now.”

 

“Good,” Albel responded. He picked up his gauntlet and proceeded to put it back on.

 

Edge slid into his under garments – why the younger man had such things baffled the Glyphian. He’d pulled his pants and shirts back on when his communicator crackled to life.

 

_“Edge.”_ The Reimi wench’s voice grated on Albel’s nerves. _“Where are you? We’ve been looking everywhere!”_

 

“I’m with Albel,” he responded, a sheepish expression on his face. “We, uh, had a sparring session.”

 

“We’re ridding the underground caverns of monsters as well,” Albel stated, loud enough so she could hear. “Who knows when we’ll need to use these paths again.”

 

_“What? He didn’t hurt you, did he? I swear that if he did . . .”_ The communicator crackled. In the background, two others spoke with Reimi, their voices muffled.

 

_“Edge, this is Cliff. Is Fayt with you guys?”_

 

“No . . .” Edge shot Albel a confused look. He set the device down and continued to don his armor. “Wasn’t he with you guys?”

 

_“That’s just it,”_ Cliff replied. _“We went looking for him after you two argued, and we haven’t been able to find him since then. Your friend, Bacchus, says he’s nowhere in Aquios proper, and he’s not in the castle, either. We need you and Albel to get back here as soon as possible so we can find him.”_

 

Apprehension filled Albel at the buffoon’s words along with a sickening dread.

 

‘Not again. What is going on? What did that scum Luther see?’

 

“We’ll be there soon,” Edge promised, pressing a button. He cast Albel a puzzled glance. “Why would Fayt disappear like that? He doesn’t strike me as the type to do that.”

 

“He wouldn’t,” Albel responded. “Hurry up so we can find him.”

 

“Almost finished . . .”

 

From outside the room, a small, metallic object crashed to the floor. Albel lifted his head then grabbed his sword from where it had fallen. He rushed from the room, noting vaguely Edge following behind him. Anger flourished in Albel, and he cursed himself for his own weakness, for leaving the city proper. Most of all, he cursed Edge for being such an arrogant fool. Fayt’s life hung in the balance, and the blond had been refusing to lift a finger to save the blue-haired teen.

 

‘This isn’t over yet, Edge,’ Albel thought darkly. ‘Just . . . huh?’

 

He skidded to a momentary halt. Halfway down the corridor stood Fayt, a chalice in his hand.

 

“Fayt?”

 

Edge strode forward, passing Albel and sheathing his sword. Albel clenched his teeth, fear gripping his heart. Fayt swayed a little, mumbled something under his breath, but didn’t respond to them.

 

“Fayt, I didn’t understand what you said.” Edge drew closer to the blue-haired teen, drawing Albel out of his stupor and fear.

 

“He isn’t here with us,” Albel snapped, sliding his sword into its sheath. “This is nothing new.”

 

“What?”

 

Fayt mumbled something again, and the chalice clattered to the floor, landing next to another one Albel hadn’t noticed before. Fayt swayed some more then dropped to the ground. Edge leapt into action faster than Albel imagined he could or would, catching Fayt in his arms.

 

Albel, too, leapt forward, alarmed. A weak cough escaped Fayt, and Edge was lifting him up.

 

“Let’s go,” Edge said. “We can come back for whatever we’ve left behind. He’s burning up.”

 

Albel noted the change in Edge’s tone, more confident and authoritative. He nodded and strode forward, grabbing both chalices along the way and stuffing them into a pouch. They were going to be vulnerable as they trekked back to the castle, but some things simply couldn’t be helped.

 

‘And I seek to kill anything getting in my way,’ Albel mused darkly. ‘And anything that threatens Fayt. No more of this. I will find the cause of this problem and eliminate it. One way or another. And you, Maverick, are mine.’


End file.
